My life is a lie, of which I am forced to live. My family is a lie, my name is a lie, hell even my hair is a lie.

It happened when I was fourteen years old. I was running somewhere, I didn't know where I was going, but here's what I was running from. My parents. They were fighting…again. It was about me that time. They caught me doing something that they didn't approve of, so they were arguing about what they should do with me. My father wanted me sent away to live with people who could "fix" me, while my mother argued that it was just a phase, and I'd grow out of it. I screamed at them saying,

"There's nothing wrong with me! I am who I am, and if you don't like that I'll leave right now"

My father looked pleased with himself. "Okay honey, I'll look online and find a place that will work for your "problem""

I looked at him with complete shock. And said "Not what I meant." And I took off. My mother was crying on the steps, screaming for me to come back, and my father just held, and shushed her. Neither of them chased after me. Neither of them wanted a daughter like me, and that was made pretty obvious that day.

I ran the half-mile to the bus station, and I bought a ticket to New York. That was 513 miles away from home. They'd never find me there, even if they looked. I sat at the back of the bus, watching my home town grow smaller in the distance, until finally it disappeared.

"First time away from home?" the woman next to me on the bus asked.

"Yeah, you could say that." I replied.

"Must be tough." She said.

"Not really. I'm never going back."

"Never you say?"

"Never."

After that we rode in silence. It took about six hours to get there, and as soon as I got off of the bus I ran to the bathroom. (Hey, a girl had to pee) and when I got done, that woman was waiting for me.